Happy Valentines Day, Internet

It’s February 14. That means it’s Valentines Day.* A holiday both adored and reviled by the young and old alike. Some people loathe it, other people ignore it, and some people embrace it.
*I spell it this way on purpose, guys. It’s not Saint Valentine’s Day anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. It’s a day to celebrate Valentines. Ergo, Valentines Day.  


I clearly put lots of effort into making my Valentine for you. You are _welcome._

I’m one of the embracers, guys. And I’m not ashamed of it. But I don’t embrace it because I think I’m somehow owed flowers and tokens of love today because I just so happen to be female.** I think people lose their minds around this time of year – the same way people lose their minds on Black Friday and spend a whole day trampling each other in stores instead of spending a post-feast day relaxing with their families.
**How is that fair, anyway? How did Valentines Day turn into some affection-test for guys? Who was in charge of that nonsense? Can’t we just relax, people? Why does this aside involve so many questions?

I like to present a front that I have no time for love anymore in my life. I’m an independent woman, after all, single and in my 20s. TV tells me I should be a champion of everything.

'cause the face is busy being bitter...

I’m also a child who grew up in the 90s. I’m super good at “talk to the hand.”

That’s not really the real me, though. I come from a home that has always been full of love. My parents loved me and my brother endlessly, and never skimped on affection. They also love each other – a fact that I’ve never had to question, ever. They’re loving and affectionate and sometimes they even flirt. Frequently, there is cuddling.***
***All of this is, of course, accompanied by obligatory “ew, you made me, stop that, gross, parents” faces from me.****
****You’re welcome, Mom and Dad.

So despite pretending to be a cold-hearted monster without concern for love, what I really am in someone who wants to find the perfect partner. I want, in the longterm, the kind of relationship I see in my parents. Ew-faces aside, I’m a pretty lucky girl to have grown up in a household like that.

This is what REALLY causes heart attacks

Which coincidentally resulted in me actually being a lot more like this.

This has led to some issues along the way. I’m not exactly talented when it comes to picking romantic partners. This tendency has further fostered my posturing as a coldhearted, aloof girl, destined for a future full of cats.

But the point remains: I firmly believe in love. And I believe in Valentines Day. Not because it’s a test of someone’s love for you – and how well they can show it on demand – but because it’s a great time to do something that makes you happy.

Frequently, I am single on Valentines Day. That tendency is actually what drove me to embrace it.

Last year, with the help of a fellow single friend – who we shall call The Hero of the South (THotS, which is pronounced “Thhhhh-oates” as of this very moment) – Valentines Day was celebrated with style. We dressed up. We high-fived. We got drinks.

I am so giving today

Hi THotS. You know who you are. And you know you were never going to get a vote in your blog-name. _You’re welcome._

Most importantly, we went out for ribs.

Ribs. RIBS. Delicious ribs.

That lady is a waitress. I think she was scared of us.

Most people can’t bring themselves to go out for ribs on a romantic holiday, because…well…it is not attractive to eat ribs. They were delicious.

Other single Valentines Days have been celebrated with fellow single friends and movie nights – not in self-pity because we’re single, but because we’re at the same stage of life. Sometimes it’s refreshing to be surrounded by people who are sharing your current life goals, problems and, well, lack of couple-related responsibilities.

Before my pride was so barren of single friends

There is always popcorn. It is a rule.

This year, I have a date. I’m celebrating Valentines Day romantically, it’s true.


Guess what we’re doing? Go on. Guess.

But no matter what, it’s still kind of an awesome holiday, if you let it be. Couples get to be coupley. Single people can throw parties. Married people can set aside some time to go out on a real date.

If we all just stop being bitter and thinking this holiday is all about showing off.

So, Happy Valentines Day, Internet. I’m really glad we’re in each other’s lives.

Totally true

Because ours is a truly true love.

It’s Christmas and You Should be Drinking Breakfast Egg Nog Instead of Reading This

Or, you know, hanging out with family and sharing love and joy and all. Whatever floats your boat.

But since you’re here anyway, you diligent blog-checker you, I will reward you with a picture of me in my Christmas jammies:

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtlres!

Happy Holidays, Internet. It’s not even a selfie. It’s just a really dumb-looking picture of me JUST FOR YOU.
And yes, those are Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Jammies. Because my family loves me.

Now go away and love your family. Even if you don’t celebrate Christmas, today is a super good day for hugs and morning booze.

Merry Christmas, y’all. I’ll be in the present fort.


This is my present fort. Go away.

Never Question My Commitment to Sparkle Motion

And by “Sparkle Motion,” I mean “my Christmas tree.”*

*What, do you not name your Christmas tree?

Sparkle Sparkle Twinkle

Sparkle Motion, Phase 1. Ignore the plastic base. This tree is totally real. I swear**.

**I’m lying.

For my whole life, my grandmother has maintained a tradition of giving every family member a hand-selected ornament. As a child, this was an eye-rolling pain – why get an ornament when wrapping paper should always contain a valuable toy? As an adult, I’m almost painfully grateful for this tradition. For one thing, I actually have a collection of ornaments to put on a tree. For another thing, most of those ornaments are so wildly unique that my Christmas tree is like no other.

Despite that glorious tradition, this is the first year in a very long time that I’ve had my own Christmas tree. Generally, I just sort of hurl lights all around my living space, call it festive, and eat cookies until Santa comes.*** This is a remarkably delightful life plan, but this year, I decided it was time to step up my game.

***Life Lesson 307: Always leave cookies for Santa. A story for another day.

So I rescued a box of ornaments from my parents’ house. A box that I was told was filled with ornaments that were mine. Only to discover that this was not quite true. Yes, many of the ornaments were mine.

But many of them were also my mother’s. 

Ever since my parents decided that fake trees were much easier**** than real trees, there’s been some fierce competition for space on their tree. This has led to some excess ornaments which sometimes are left neglected in the box. My mother has apparently solved this problem by giving me some of the more unique***** ornaments.

****Not full of spider eggs.
*****Ornaments I have hidden at random around her house, with malicious intent.

I thought it was a moose

Meet the BalletReindeerLabra. Perfect for lighting your home and dancing the Nutcracker

The mystical BalletReindeerLabra is a magical being****** that can bestow both candlelight and sugarplum fairy replacement on your holiday. She was gifted to my parents, but has perpetually been too heavy to live on the tree. Her strangely varied skills provoked endless smarmy storytelling from me over the years, which apparently makes her mine. Because my benevolent mother would hate to leave me uninspired, I’m sure. Thanks Mom.

******And actually a super expensive designer ornament, apparently.

She's blue because she's cold

The Christmas Mermaid combines both the fun of The Little Mermaid with the elaborate hair styling of Cinderella’s stepsisters. In your face, Disney.

Meet the Christmas Mermaid, a staple for Christmas trees on shipwrecks. She’s festive AND practical. Also, she’s blue because water is cold in December. Duh. She now lives on the toasty warm tree, pining for her frozen watery home*******. She’s my festive hostage, courtesy of my mother informing me that this was obviously my decoration, despite my memories to the contrary. Thanks, Mom.

*******To make her feel more comfortable, I put her next to my shark ornament. Do you not have a shark ornament? Oh, well, your grandmother must not be as cool as mine. Bummer.

And now we come to the greatest of them all.


Meet Santa fairy. He’s factually a fairy. He has wings. I swear. And delicate leggings. And pointy shoes.

Santa Fairy. Unlike the Sugar Plum Fairy, I confess: Santa Fairy kind of scares me. He has for years. Unlike the jolly fat elf of my childhood years, Santa Fairy has appeared “mysteriously” in random places around me ever since I confessed to my mother that he inexplicably scares the living daylights out of me.********

********I like to have really illogical fears. Besides, Lookit those eyebrows. Just LOOK at them.

He was in my ornament box. Because, you know, mothers want their kids to overcome their fears. Thanks, Mom. 

Christmas Dinosaurs

What, do you not have Christmas dinosaurs?
It’s like you don’t even celebrate the holidays.

All these ornaments********* (and so many more) have found a home on my tree, It’s the most unique tree in the world. I love it. Sometimes I am slightly scared of it, but the different ornaments are all memories, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. Also, my tree has a fuzzy lion and a glittery flamingo. Does YOURS?

*********Except Santa Fairy. He is going RIGHT BACK where he came from.

Yeah. I didn’t think so. You’re going to have to step up your game, or I’m going to start questioning YOUR commitment to Sparkle Motion.

There Isn’t Enough Suffering in Christmas This Year

So. it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. And I’m finally ok with that. Because now it’s actually December.*

*And all Americans, no matter what religion or creed they are, know that Christmas – and it’s more politically correct counterpart, ChristmaHannaKwanzikah – lasts for the entire month of December until the dawn of New Year’s Eve.

I understand that Thanksgiving came late this year. That’s hard on the wild world of commerce, I know. There’s less time for massive holiday profits. Which is really what American holidays are all about.**

**I’m not criticizing. I totally love getting stuff. I am a true American.

But that’s no excuse for having decorated for Christmas before Halloween.

Santa is supposed to be building toys on Halloween

I went to the mall on Halloween. In my costume. And this is what greeted me.
This is taking the Nightmare Before Christmas a little too far, guys.

Halloween is sacred to the youth of American. And Thanksgiving is a sacred, essential part of easing us all into overly crowded, stressful family gatherings in the name of love.*** So it’s pretty uncouth to skip right over those holidays and jam holly and mistletoe down our throats before the line of December is crossed.

***Don’t worry my family. I’m definitely not talking about us. We are, of course, special, and all love each other in a drama-free way. Definitely. Our family gatherings are the ideal model for Thomas Kincade paintings.

Bruce Campbell wasn't there

In case anyone was wondering, we celebrated Thanksgiving in the refurbished Evil Dead cabin.

But now it is finally December. The time for the crisp scent of Christmas-tree pine, and stressful holiday shopping in overcrowded stores. It’s a time for merry, multi-colored lights and egg nog****  In short, we have finally hit the holiday season, and I’m a hundred percent behind it.

****Or soy nog, for those of us with a stubborn hippy streak. Or lactose intolerance. Bonus!., if you’re a drinker of soy nog, NO ONE ever steals your glass. 

But lets get down to the true meaning of Christmas: The tree.

Christmas is not Christmas without a murdered tree shedding impossible-to-vacuum needles all over your carpet. Christmas is not Christmas without trekking out into the snow to sort through hundreds of trees to pick exactly the right one. Christmas is not Christmas without men swearing under their breath as they tie the tree to their cars, scratching the roof, while women try to entertain sticky children who are fighting in the parking lot.

We all know this to be true.

But I still helped decorate my parents’ totally fake tree yesterday.

Thousands and thousands of spider eggs

Seriously. Ever since that one time I picked a tree full of spider eggs, I don’t get a vote anymore.

The above image is pre-decorations, but I’m totally proud of my garland stringing skills.

I want to be mad about the plastic and the pre-packaged lights. But I have to be honest: This tree went up in less than 20 minutes, I didn’t have to untangle a single light, and absolutely zero spider babies tried to eat me. Also, no vacuuming was involved.

Convenience is taking the suffering out of Christmas, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I’m Taking a Brief Hiatus to Worship Turkey

Dear Internet,

I’m sorry to abandon you like this. I know you hate to be left alone. I know your information feels wasted, your games feel neglected, and your rapid-fire news updates are fired into an unappreciative space.

Tragically, however, I’ve been summoned to the holy land of family gatherings. To worship turkey.

Om nom nom nom

The delicious turkey lord demands you interrupt your life for a feast.

This festival of fowl worship is pretty time consuming. It involves gatherings of family in remote locations, and toiling in hot kitchens. It involves the sacrifice of sanity and the consumption of large quantities of pie.

I don’t want to subject you to that kind of inappropriateness, Internet. Your sensibilities are pretty delicate.

But you know I think you’re something special. I know our love is true.

I know we’ll get through this.

See you next Monday, Internet.